


Deliver Us From Evil

by Xarixian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Horror, Subconscious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xarixian/pseuds/Xarixian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the leviathan takes over his body, Castiel encounters Jimmy in the subconscious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliver Us From Evil

There's a low buzz in the air, strip lights blinking on and off, revealing flashes of a bare room; stark, pale walls and a wooden floor thick with dust. There's a definite chill in the air, and the whole place smells like damp seaweed. An old T.V. set stands against one wall, aerial crooked, on/off switch missing.

Castiel pauses to consider it for a while, the only object in an otherwise empty room, before a low whimpering sound attracts his attention and he turns away. A man (or perhaps the ghost of a man) huddles in the far corner near a window that has been boarded up. His clothes hang from his thin, bony frame, his dark hair lank and unwashed. It takes a while for Castiel to recognise himself, to recognise his vessel in the scared, pinched face of this creature, now little more than a fragment of the man Jimmy Novak had once been.

Castiel wonders whose subconscious this is—the leviathan's, Jimmy's, or his.

Jimmy shows no recognition as Castiel stands before him, hands limp at his sides, taking in the image of a broken shell. Castiel's chest constricts with regret and he briefly wonders when and how he became so human. He's spent his whole life stamping down any semblance of feeling, this last year more than ever. It's been so much harder since he met Dean Winchester. He'd once thought his feelings might belong to Jimmy, but looking at him now, Castiel doubts that Jimmy feels much of anything, except perhaps cold, and fear.

The TV set clicks on and Castiel turns to see his own face in black and white, grinning wildly back at him, his eyes glistening with mania, skin flecked with blood. Behind Castiel (the _Leviathan_ , Castiel reminds himself, teeth gritted) lie the decimated bodies of 27 men, women and children, their blood soaking into the folds of the trenchcoat.

How could he have got it so wrong? His intentions had been so pure—save the world, put things right, be a better father than his had been. Somewhere along the line everything had gotten so muddled. He should have listened to Dean. He'd thought he knew better, that millions of years of heavenly service meant he knew what he was getting into. How could he have been so blind?

The Leviathan's smile, impossibly, widens, and he extends a hand, waggles his fingers in a wave. Castiel sinks to his knees, hands grasping the TV set, twisting the dials. Each channel shows a different place, but it's the same bloody scene each time: a children's play park littered with tiny, broken limbs; a grocery store, blood mingling with pasta sauce from broken jars; a family home torn apart, its occupants strewn carelessly over the couch, the table, the floor.

Castiel backs away from the set until his back hits the wall and he slumps to the floor. He hides his head in his hands and can smell the stench of human blood on his skin.

He tries to block out the echo of screams and the crunch of bone and the thud of lifeless bodies hitting the floor, but it's inside his head now and he can't switch it off. Beside him, Jimmy shudders violently, and Castiel can't help the echoing spasm that runs through his body. On the TV screen, the Leviathan laughs.


End file.
